


unmailed

by Anonymous



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Post-Break Up, letter format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27488410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: What's another unsent post-breakup letter in the grand scheme of things?
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38
Collections: Anonymous





	unmailed

**Author's Note:**

> a letter from osamu's pov, but which can be read as a standalone
> 
> rated T for swearing and that's it
> 
> [suna's pov here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26912434#main)

~~Dear Rin~~

~~Dear Rintarou~~

~~Suna~~

~~Rintarou~~

Rin,

This— is kind of funny, in an ironic way of sorts, because here I am, writing you a letter despite being the one who initiated the breakup. Or maybe my sense of humour’s just fucked up. Then again, we do share the same sense of humour—it’s one of the reasons why we were best friends before we were boyfriends.

It kinda sucks, yknow. That we both lost a best friend, too. There’s a lot of people out there talking shit about staying friends with your ex and whatever but I know you find it just as ridiculous as I do. I still remember you saying something along the lines of ‘if they could stay friends after the breakup, then they didn’t really love each other romantically’. I might have gotten some of it wrong—you’ll have to excuse me.

Hey, I guess that’s kind of a win for us. In a fucked up way (again), of course. Cuz we aren’t best friends anymore—we’re not even friends. That must have meant that we really did love each other, huh?

It sucks though. Full-on sucks, I’m being honest now. There isn’t really anyone else to talk to anymore or to send funny meme videos to, besides ‘Sumu. And he’s busy all the time so.

So yeah. Since I’m being honest and all, I’ll just come out and say it.

I miss you. I miss you and your sleep-mussed hair and the way you clung to me when we shared a bed, even if it was way too hot to be cuddling. I miss our video calls and voice calls and text messages. I miss your voice and your smiles and your laughs. I miss your kisses, your hands in mine, our bodies pressed together. 

I miss you.

And— okay yeah. When I said— 

When I said we should break up, I wasn’t really expecting you to agree with me. You looked so heartbroken when those words slipped out of my mouth—you’re usually so guarded, was it because you were with me? That you let yourself be so vulnerable? God that just makes me feel even shittier.

I wish I could take it back. Words are so— so small, tiny, seemingly insignificant, but isn’t it laughable how it takes 3 words to build a home, and 4 words to break it down?

I didn’t mean to say it. But I’d already spat the words out, like they were poisonous, like they’d burn a hole through my tongue if they stayed there a second longer—and in the heat of the moment, I guess some insidious, spiteful part of me wanted to see if you would fight for us.

Guess you were just as tired as I was, or maybe even more so. I don’t— _can’t_ —fault you for that.

This isn’t how I’d planned this letter to go. In fact, I’d only started writing this because I found that shirt of yours—the limited edition one you stayed up late to preorder—in my drawer. I remember you were so devastated on the video call when you couldn’t find it; you asked me to check my closet and I promised I would, and then— 

Well. And then we broke up.

Anyway, I’ll mail you the shirt in a box. Don’t worry, the print on it is as good as new, and I’ll fold it well so it stays that way. 

~~I kind of wish it hadn't been washed. I know, disgusting. But maybe then it would have retained some of your scent, still. God that's just ridiculous on a whole new level. Creepy, even. For fuck's sake, what’s wrong with me?~~

... This is stupid. I won’t even be putting this letter in with the shirt. I’m a coward, really, for writing all this down and telling you none of it.

But well, since I’ve gotten this far, I’ll just write a bit more. As part of the whole moving on process and all. 

  1. I saw a black cat the other day. It reminded me of that— that list we made. The one of the things we’d do together, remember? Number 12, adopt a cat together. Well, this cat was initially quite hostile, but I think she’s warmed up to me. Now, when I leave out some food for her, she lets me pet her in return. I think you would have liked her. You share a name with her, anyway.
  2. I still have all our pictures and videos together, yknow? All our memories. I’ve tried going through my camera roll to gather them all into some folder, to lock them away (out of sight, out of mind, right?), but that hasn’t really been working out. I can’t bring myself to get past the first few and that’s just pathetic, isn’t it?
  3. I have been trying to get over you. It isn’t working. ‘Sumu mailed me a book about how to get over your ex (like the dickhead he is) but nothing seems to work. I don’t know how it got a bestseller award. Then again, maybe it’s too soon to be trying.
  4. The little restaurant a few streets down, the one you claimed made the best katsudon you’d ever had besides mine? Yeah, it closed down. Well, I guess it probably wouldn’t even matter to you, since you don’t live or study here. But yeah, when I went out to eat there a while ago, I found out the owner’s wife died of cancer. I wish I could have said some condolences in person.
  5. On a lighter note, a new bakery opened near my campus and I have been obsessively visiting it whenever I’m on campus. Their pastry puffs and red bean buns are really something else, and I think you’d like them. I wish you could have tried them once, at least.
  6. I went grocery shopping two days ago and picked out ingredients for your favourite dish. Got back to my apartment, started prepping. Only realised I used enough ingredients for two people once I started cooking and by then, it was already too late. So I gave your share to the nice old lady who lives next door. I could have saved it for later but hot food always tastes best right after it's cooked, yknow? Not to be a picky eater or anything. ~~(Also I don't think I could bring myself to eat your share and _not_ think of you.)~~
  7. The air-conditioning and heater 2-in-1 unit in my apartment finally gave out and the landlord sent someone in to fix it. Now, it’s working as good as new. 
  8. I try to keep busy, but it’s inevitable that I think of you. 
  9. I’m sorry. For everything I did, and for everything I didn’t do.
  10. ~~I still love you~~



Do you miss me as much as I miss you? Do you think of me? Does number 24 on the bucket list we made together haunt you still? These are all questions I no longer have the right to ask you.

So I won’t ask them. Instead, here are a few new promises that will only ever exist unspoken, and the last ones I will ever make to you:

I will get over you, and you will get over me. I will stop thinking of the 19 promises we left unfulfilled, and I will mail you your limited edition shirt that doesn’t smell anything like you, probably because it’s clean and hasn’t been worn since its last wash. I will, eventually, be able to gather all our memories into an SD card and keep it somewhere out of sight (maybe I will even be able to delete them).

And maybe, one day, sometime in the far, far future, I will call out ‘Rin’ and you will not be the first thing that comes to mind.

And maybe, one day, I will be able to say the words ‘thank you’ and not have a million unspoken apologies trail behind it.

And maybe, one day, I will be able to let go of all the guilt and what-ifs and I-love-yous that keep me chained, still, to _us_.

In the interim, grant me a small mercy—allow me to keep thinking of you.

  
  


Osamu

**Author's Note:**

> i still miss you. it's still my fault. but i've grown and i know now, that it's partly yours too.
> 
> **edited 11/11/2020 + added on some parts**


End file.
